


An Acceptably Wrinkled Timeline

by arnediadglanduath



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Possible Angst (because I always do angst whether I want to or not), Pre slash-Slash, Slow Burn, Tags May Change, Time Travel Fix-It, Warnings May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-11-03 09:49:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10964766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arnediadglanduath/pseuds/arnediadglanduath
Summary: Sirius Black is dead.Mostly, anyway.On the brink of passing on, he is visited by a friend of Harry's from the future, who offers to send him back in time to make things right. Can the most brash and reckless member of the Maurauders go back and make things right? Or will he only succeed in making everything so much worse? Moreover, will he be able to rebuild the bridges he's already broken...or are there some friendships that are simply over long before their time? (Title Credit To the Time Quintet).





	1. The Great Divide (and those between)

Death-he concluded-was like a dinner party that never ended. 

Shifting his... _form_ on an increasingly uncomfortable chintz, Sirius Black reflected that if he knew he was going to spend the rest of eternity at a family function, he’d have tried a lot harder to stay alive. That’s what it was, really...a reunion of such flamboyant magnitude it would’ve made even his dear dead Mum tremble with apprehension. Walburga was here, of course, he’d barely escaped her throwing Bellatrix at him again...but it was hard to alarm someone who’d already kicked it. Someone whose corporeal essence hadn’t quite fully coagulated was murmuring in his ear...but he had a sneaking suspicion it was Moody. He kept getting flashes of that electric blue optical piece, and there was no missing those scars. The idea that he was dead was disheartening...as it meant that the war had begun to touch those who he’d previously thought impervious. Remus could be dead and he’d never know it, he wasn’t high enough-(or low enough, depending how you looked at)-on the tier to get into pure-blood Receptions, lucky bastard. 

It was dumb luck that he’d landed here, really. The first time his vision cleared enough to allow him to look around he’d had an intense urge to vomit. There ought to have been an undead law that allowed only four Blacks to gather together at one time. From what he’d been able to keep track of, there was up-score of a hundred and he’d been repeatedly assured that this was a _small reception._ He’d also gathered that this was somehow about him, but it was stupidly difficult to keep track of time there, though he really only felt as if he’d been dead a few hours. There were people who had tried to speak to him, but he hadn’t mastered talking without his mouth yet...and he was distinctly aware of the fact that if he got up...he’d fall over or explode into some disgusting ghostly mess that he’d be forced to clean up. 

No, being dead wasn’t _anything_ like he’d expected it to be.

Moody was floating off in the direction of some questionable-looking bowls of punch, though whether it was out of his own volition or not remained unclear. Come to think of it, Sirius’d not seen any sign of James either, but it didn’t particularly surprise him. He was beginning to think that this was truly a _‘reception’_. Everyone around him was acknowledging his untimely descent into the afterlife, but nothing about where he was resonated with him as familiar. He had a distinctly uncomfortable feeling that he was running out of time, though for what, he couldn’t say...and the more he considered it the more it ate at him. 

He hadn’t been ready to die.

Any sorry sod who declared themselves _‘ready to die’_ hadn’t experienced life quite like Sirius Black. He hadn’t been done smoking fags or drinking cheap whisky-(mind you, not so cheap since his confinement to Grimmauld Place)-; he wasn’t done chasing birds and listening to Remus natter on about he’d be the death of him. And Harry...-! Sirius tried and failed to ignore the pang of guilt-suffused agony that lanced through his chest at the thought of his now Godfatherless godson. He hadn’t been done spending time with Harry. Casting a despairing glance around the now almost-unbearably crowded room, he was bitterly conscious of the fact that even if James _could_ be there, he wasn’t entirely sure he _would_. He’d been careless with his life after Azkaban. Churlish, ungrateful even. It was hard to explain to someone that spending his days locked away in his childhood home was somehow worse than being in the middle of the ocean surrounded by Dementors. 

His parents had done their damnedest to turn him into a ‘perfect pureblood’ before tossing him on the streets. As firstborn, he was expected to uphold some mannerism of image, and in his first years at Hogwarts, he was distinctly ashamed of the fact that he’d remained arrogant and somewhat aloof. He’d always told Harry he and James had simply ‘fallen in’ together, and that was somewhat true. What he _hadn’t_ told Harry was that he’d hand-picked James out of the rest of their fellow Gryffindors because he was pureblood and his family was of decent social standing. He’d have had more choices if he’d been sorted into Slytherin, of course, but that wasn’t to be his lot. James’ mischievous, ever-positive nature had grown on him. Slowly at first, but by the end of their second year...Sirius could count himself proud to be his friend; and a friend to the rest of the Maurauders. A year after that and you’d never have guessed that the quartet’s unruliest, most flirtatious and-in Sirius’ humble opinion-most handsome member was once uptight, somewhat snobbish, and overly-concerned with blood status. 

If he were honest with himself, he’d been careless about his entire life. 

By the time they graduated James had grown up and was well into his relationship with Lily. They tolerated Sirius popping over for dinner every once in a while, but it soon became clear that he was expected to ‘settle down’ soon as well. Peter didn’t change much, but he didn’t live near them, and Sirius was ashamed to admit that they’d not so much lost contact with him as they’d ignored him completely. He’d received countless letters from him that first summer, and one of his most prominent memories was lying on his poor excuse for a bed totally hammered, staring at the stack of envelopes with an ache in his chest that told him he was a terrible, terrible friend. Remus struggled with his lycanthropy from the minute he stepped out of Hogwarts until the day Sirius fell through the veil. By fall of 1978, Sirius rarely heard from him by owl, and saw him even less. Remus was always _‘studying’_ or picking up a rag-tag low end job to earn just enough Muggle money to take him to his next sordid destination. He stopped in on Christmas, and he never missed Harry’s birthday, but Sirius knew he was pursuing the secrets of lycanthropy; known and unknown.

He’d stopped trying to tell Moony to ‘think positively’ about his ‘furry little problem’ when he’d lured Snape to the Whomping Willow. As far as he was concerned he had lost that privilege, permanently. Years after the event, the monstrosity of his betrayal still lurked behind Lupin’s eyes...and he could not, in good conscience, dissuade him from finding a solution for something he’d treated so frivolously. Their friendship had never fully recovered, and it was this, more than anything else, that haunted him during his stay in Azkaban. James’ and Lily’s deaths were a grindstone around his neck, but the fact that a member of the Maurauders was still alive and had made no attempt to reach out to him was crushing. It showed him how little faith Remus had had in him to begin with, and it bloody _hurt_. 

Bellatrix was shooting him increasingly hateful glances.

Sirius had never figured out why everything Remus did commanded his attention more than the rest of the Maurauders. Maybe it was because they’d slowly grown closer as James’ obsession with Evans grew, or maybe it was because Sirius had always counted on Remus to pull him back from the edge like he had so many times during their years at Hogwarts. Maybe it was because Remus always fussed over him like he was a mangy stray with some sort of mental affectation that excused him from everything he did. 

Everything except attempted murder, that is. 

No, Sirius Orion Black had lived like he died; stupidly, recklessly, and without much thought to how his actions would affect those who cared about him. To make matters worse, he’d died by falling through a bloody curtain. Somewhere, in a place far removed from the permeability of mortality, the Fates had to be laughing their heads off. If he concentrated hard enough, he could vaguely remember the small moments between the time Bellatrix had hit him...and when he’d fallen. He could remember Harry’s eyes widening in hopeful disbelief as his Godfather fell through a seemingly empty archway...surely expecting him to hop right back up on the opposite side. His memory brought forth not one howl of agony, but two; one that was Harry’s, and one that was familiar but so achingly distant that he couldn’t grasp the identity behind it. He never saw his life flashing before his eyes, but he’d never expected to. He’d known long before his death that all of that was bullocks anyway. 

Azkaban was worse than death. 

A younger, more arrogant version of himself might have scoffed at the concept of _anything_ being worse than meeting your untimely demise, but he now knew this to be untrue. He’d spent year upon year lost in the desperate memories of a man he barely remembered...a man he’d never truly reclaimed even after escaping. As the Dementors siphoned his will to live, he was forced to relive the recollections of the things he had come to regret more and more. Each day, sometimes twice a day, a happy memory was stolen from him. Sirius had reflected-somewhat bitterly-that he was lucky to have been so happy at Hogwarts. He’d been surrounded by friends, and kept busy and entertained with snogging girls and pulling pranks. The Dementors took a lot of joy from him...but no matter how hard they tried, he always had more. He had James and Remus, Lily and the beautiful Delilah Miggs with the magnificent knockers...hell, he even had good memories of _Peter_ , the double-crossing arsemonger. No, Azkaban needed to have tried a lot harder if they wanted to push him into despair; otherwise, he wouldn’t have had the motivation to escape upon seeing that Prophet article. 

Harry’s life had taken precedence after that...and in his brief few gasps for freedom, he’d felt some semblance of hope for his future. Looking back, he wasn’t exactly sure _what_ he’d intended to do with the future of his Godson resting on his shoulders, but in some ways, he was grateful it never came to that. Fifth year had brought about a change in the Boy-Who-Lived that even he had not always been able to fathom. Harry was angry and bitter...traits he often saw reflected in himself as he roamed the halls of Grimmauld place. Both of them placed much of the blame on Dumbledore and his terrible affinity for keeping life-threatening secrets, but the reality was that each of them had looked far too much inwards during that time....and neither of them had truly done much to discourage the other. 

_**‘You’re running out of time...’** _

He’d never counted himself one to hear voices.

Casting his gaze around the room, Sirius was surprised to find it mostly empty. Granted, there wasn’t much love lost between arrival and departure. It was still strange to find himself suddenly and inexplicably alone. The room’s essence had taken on a more solid appearance, but it had grown smaller and now appeared to be a sort of antechamber with a single door straight ahead leading to parts unknown. He was sitting on a plain workbench...the long, hard type you might see at a hastily gathered public venue in the country. He didn’t appear to be wearing anything, but this didn’t alarm him as much as he supposed it should. Nakedness was apparently a non-issue in the afterlife, _that_ was something Sirius could appreciate. The only thing that really bothered him was the obvious lack of his wand...but he’d never particularly liked the one he’d gotten after his escape. Nicked wands didn’t tend to agree with their captors...no matter their intentions. The walls around him were prismatic, and he couldn’t focus on one for long before his eyes began to hurt and he was forced to look away. They gave off the sense of being incredibly powerful and yet somehow semi-permanent...as if this room was designed specifically for him...and no other would come after. 

“You’re running out of time!” 

There was a girl in front of him...about Harry’s age he supposed, with long flax-colored hair that rippled to her waist, and funny radish-shaped earrings. Her eyes were the color of silver sickles; airy, but with an intensity to them that gave Sirius the impression she was staring into his very soul. Her clothes were nondescript and not altogether ‘present’...if such a description were even possible. She wasn’t indecent...but her torso was ‘fuzzy’; as if she was projecting from a different plane and couldn’t be bothered to straighten out all the details. 

_“Are you dead?”_

His voice sounded distant, even to his own ears; as if he was speaking across a massive distance; where only the faintest echoes of vocalization could possibly reach someone. The girl tilted her head and narrowed her eyes as if listening intently. He realized-with a jolt of bitterness-that he was indeed dead; and it was very likely the young lady in front of him was a seer attempting to reach him. Strange...to see her so close, and yet acknowledge that she was eons away...out of this time and space. 

“I’m not” she replied gently. “But you are. And if you’re not careful, you’ll be dead forever.”

Sirius smirked, struck by the still-apparent vein of optimism in her tone.

_“I...didn’t know I had a choice.”_

This time, it appeared to take her longer to decipher what he’d said, and when she did she looked sympathetic.

“You fell into the Veil...a gateway between the Realm of the Living and the Realm of the Dead. It’s a one-way trip...and you weren’t given a choice...you never committed the crime you were accused of. Even the Fates aren’t that cruel...and Time knows when its fabric has been ripped asunder for the sake of an evil deed. Tom Riddle thinks he has trumped the ravages of death...but he couldn’t be further from the truth.” She gestured to the door behind her. “That door leads to the summer of 1978...is there anything you’d like to change about that time?” 

He gaped. 

When looking back on that moment, Sirius wouldn’t have been surprised if his jaw literally hit the floor. Because was she _kidding?!_ There were a million things he wanted to change about that time! He could save James and Lily, and Harry would have his _parents!_ He wouldn’t be guilty of a crime he never committed, and he’d have a chance to talk to Remus again, and maybe even stop Peter from making such god-awful choices... He might even be able to convince Dumbledore that moving the Potters from Godric’s Hollow was a better idea, and that they’d be safer somewhere else. Then, abruptly, the wind was knocked out of him....because this was _not_ possible. No one came back from the dead decades previous and prevented major disasters. No one got to see their friends again-their _dead friends_ -and put them back into the lives they’d left like it was absolutely nothing. No one got a second chance. 

_‘You’re having me on’_ he said bitterly. _‘I don’t remember you, but you’ve got to be a hallucination. That’s what happens when you die, right? You hallucinate?”_

She smiled, and it was sad but at the same time understanding.

“I’m not a hallucination...I’m...well, sometimes I don’t even know what I am. I get made fun of for it a lot, actually. But Harry misses you so much, and, well, he’s not the only one who misses you. I wanted to help, to do something.” Her brow furrowed. “But you’ve got to go through that door, or you won’t get another chance.” Something flickered abruptly at the corner of her ‘projection’; a flash of brilliant red light that seemed to creep upwards and encompass her entire being. Silver eyes widened, and Sirius thought he detected a trace of fear. “I’ve got to go, but please, consider it. I understand if you want to stay...but there’s so much you can change-!”

-He was alone again. 

The walls around him seemed to have encroached upon his space as they were speaking, and the door that had been directly in front of him was suddenly much further away. Scrambling to his feet, Sirius stumbled as his not-quite ephemeral body attempted to find equilibrium. Biting his lip, he considered his options. Eternal peace, no matter how much his rebellious spirit balked at the idea, was undeniably attractive. He’d spent the last years of his life incredibly unhappy, and he had no idea what his mental condition would be should he decide to take the girl up on her offer. That being said, he wasn’t particularly sure how _old_ he’d be either. It would be incredibly hard to explain why he was a thirty-six year-old train wreck with prison tattoos if he arrived in the state he’d left. Still, it would be worth it if he could save his best mate...damn his own physicality. How could he look Harry in the eyes in fifty or so years with the knowledge that he’d had the opportunity to go back and save his Mum and Dad? 

That settled it once and for all. 

After going to pat down his pockets-and subsequently realizing he hadn’t any-he made a slow but determined path towards the door. Each step seemed weigh him down more and more, and it was with a jolt of dread that he realized that he really didn’t have all that much time. Whatever this space was, it was impermanent to either sphere of existence; Living or Dead, and his ‘middle ground’ was about to dissolve. The 'walls’-indiscernible as they were-appeared to be closing in on themselves, giving off the impression of being in a triangulated prism...with the entryway up ahead his only concrete grounding point. There was a far away sound that gave the impression of something massive collapsing in on itself; like the death of a behemoth in the depths of the sea, or the wailing howl of a quasar on the edges of space. He was suddenly indescribably cold, and felt as if he was made of countless tiny sand particles...one wrong move, and he’d dissolve into a million pieces. 

Up close, the door appeared to be made of three foot-long slabs of solid oak; shaved to a brilliant finish. There was a windowed lattice on top with colored, diamond-shaped panes; pumpkin, aquamarine, and pumpkin. The knocker was in the shape of a lion’s head and oddly familiar, the brass warm beneath his fingertips as he took hold of it. Three raps and the door swung open; a shadowy, but somewhat familiar shape taking form before him. Sirius took a deep breath and stepped forward; gasping as he appeared to sink through an invisible barrier that was somewhat aqueous, coming out the other side to stumble over a welcome mat and fall flat on his arse.

It was in this way that Sirius Black found himself sprawled on the Potter’s living room floor in the year 1978, with a bewildered James leaning over him and a concerned but perfectly healthy-looking Lily peering out from the kitchen.


	2. Begin Again...(and again)

Lily was uncommonly good at Transfiguration. 

Blinking at the softly hooting owl figurine over the fireplace, Sirius attempted to swallow the suddenly indeterminably heavy thickness at the back of his throat. The house was just as he remembered it; pre-Harry, of course. Directly to the left of the front door was the kitchen, with a painfully quaint view of an abundance of lavender in the front yard. Lily had painted everything in there blue and yellow, with intricate floral stenciling that he’d always thought was a lot of fuss. Despite her fierce dissertation regarding the independent woman, Evans had made the kitchen very much her own. This was likely because the living room to the right was James’ space; decorated with his Quidditch trophies and a not-so-subtle furniture set in Gryffindor colors. Here and there, a vase of flowers attempted to offset the _’near suffocating masculinity’_ of the room, as Lily would put it; but to no avail. 

Directly before him was the foyer, with a wall mirror and a hall tree for shoes, coats, hats, and scarves. Sirius knew there was a small guest bedroom down the hall to the left and a washroom with an attached water closet to the right. The upstairs was identical in floor plan, but flipped; with the Master bathroom mimicking the living room in size with its own facilities and yet another guest room, slightly larger than the one downstairs, with an unattached w/c. Lily apparently had a bit of a personal potions lab in the basement, but neither he nor James had really ever bothered to investigate it thoroughly. Sirius was rarely in the back garden; as Lily had a terrible habit of making anyone who set foot there pick vegetables for the rest of the day. All in all, it was quaint...if you liked that sort of thing. A...not-so-time-traveled Sirius might have scoffed at the whole affair, but the unchanged and unsullied appearance of the place was bringing him very near to hysterics. 

In consideration of overall aesthetics, he was not naked...which was somewhat of a relief. The Universe had decided to dress him in nondescript Mugglewear. Sirius was distinctly aware of the fact that his hair was no longer lank and lifeless as it had been when he escaped Azkaban; he could feel soft, feathery strands brushing the back of his neck and tickling his earlobes. He was also conscious of his vision being much better, though he hadn’t noticed its slow degradation until now. The Sirius who had fallen through the Veil had been broken and in pain...he felt no such pain now. Glancing downwards, he saw smooth, youthful skin free of its customary tattoos and scars. Barely holding himself together, he half-stumbled, half-crawled to pull himself up on the bureau before the wall mirror...a sob escaping his lips as he saw what was before him. It was Sirius Black; of that there was no doubt, but it was a _young_ Sirius Black...with smooth, raven-colored hair, piercing grey eyes and lips that had kissed perhaps too many women by that time in his existence. 

“You didn’t break your bloody face, if that’s what you’re blubbering about.” 

He jumped as James’ irritated voice floated over to him from the still-open front door. 

“Crying at his reflection?” Lily said dryly, wiping her hands with a dishtowel. “Doesn’t really surprise me.” 

“Sod off Evans” Sirius managed to croak. “I can’t help it if I’m fucking beautiful.” 

“If you can call a pestilence beautiful” was the quicksilver retort. “What d’you want anyway? I thought you were running about Muggle London shagging strays.” 

He bit his lip, thinking furiously. This was around the time James and Lily had just moved in together, which meant he’d been a jealous, moody mess with vagrant tendencies. He didn’t remember much of August through September, which was probably for the best. He _did_ recall having a massive row with James perhaps a month previously, one that he’d barely managed to make up for before stumbling over the threshold. He’d been positive that his best mate was moving out of the bachelor department far too fast, and that his upcoming marriage surely spelled doom for the entirety of England. The day after he’d voiced his opinion to James, Lily had showed up on his doorstep for apparently no other purpose than to hex him six ways to Sunday. It took him two weeks to recover and two more to gather his humility and apologize. 

“Thought I needed to make sure you hadn’t turned Prongsy here into a tea cozy. You lot saw each other in school but you’ve never _lived_ with each other before.” 

“Stopping the proverbial Armageddon, I see” Lily said drily, rolling her eyes and disappearing back into the kitchen. “James, take your mongrel to the living room. If you leave him in the foyer he’ll put me off my cooking.” 

“C’mon mate” James chuckled, he turned and led them through a set of sliding glass doors into the living room, gesturing for Sirius to shut the door behind him. Upon entering, a giant ball of brown feathers hooted indignantly in the corner for a few seconds before falling back into a disgruntled slumber. “Don’t mind Wilouby, he’s so old I wish Lily’d put him out of his misery but she’s too fond of him. I’d do it, mind you, but I think she’d kill me.”

The laugh that forced its way past his lips sounded strangled and foreign. Even James, who was practically oblivious to the emotional quirks of others, gave him a strange and slightly worried look. Without speaking, he gestured for Sirius to sit down and made his way to the dusty liquor cabinet; pulling a tiny vial out of a dark corner and tossing it to the other man who caught it purely by reflex. Sirius raised an eyebrow at the label and gave James an incredulous look. 

“Pepperup?” he asked dryly. “I’d do better with some of that Schletter’s Fine I see on the top shelf.” 

Closing the cabinet, his friend paused and folded his arms before coming to sit down directly opposite him. Dark eyes swept across him for a moment, and Sirius Occluded automatically; a reflex from living with Walburga Black for so many horrible years. 

“Stop it” James snapped, and he startled slightly. His friend leaned back with a sigh. “I’m not...doing that rubbish to you. Thought you’d gotten over that by now.” Sirius flushed and tossed back the Pepperup to prevent himself from answering. It _did_ help; some of the residual cloudiness in his mind cleared and the numbness that lingered at his fingers and toes was replaced with a feeling of warmth. “I don’t know where you’ve been” the youngest Potter continued. “But you look like you’ve died and come back worse for wear. M’not giving you any alcohol until I’ve got at least some inkling of where you’ve been, what you’ve been doing, how long you’re going to stay, and where you’re going to go when you leave.”

Sirius pulled a face.

“You applying to be my new Mum?”

James rolled his eyes.

“Oh, shut up Padfoot, you know as well as I do that you’re not holding it together. The last time you showed up here you were covered head to toe in blood and you couldn’t remember where you’d been or how you were practically drawn and quartered. It’s the only reason we’ve started talking again. I’ve got my own life to live but I’ve got to worry about my best mate who has absolutely no qualms about having no bloody life to speak of-”

“-Fine.”

In lieu of having James go off on a tirade, Sirius had resigned himself to acquiescence more than once in the past. His friend had never been one for long-windedness, but by the end of seventh year he’d taken his responsibilities as Head Boy perhaps too seriously and was perfectly fine with ranting over the responsibilities of any well-meaning witch or wizard. It’d gotten so bad that Sirius had spelled James’ teddy bear to shout off various Ministry-Issued manuals in the dead of night just to get some well-earned justice. 

In response to his declaration, the bespectacled man mouthed wordlessly before raising an eyebrow. 

“I should really make you take Veritaserum.” Sirius stiffened and James chuckled, raising his hands in a gesture of defeat. “Don’t worry! I’m not that sadistic, but if you gloss over anything I’ll know, I spent seven disturbing years rooming with you.”

“The fact that you have Veritaserum in your bloody house is far more disturbing than having to room with me for some odd years” he muttered. 

“Touche” James aceded, making a great show of getting comfortable. “But you’re going to have to take up with Lily on that one, she’s the one who brews it.”

Sirius shuddered.

“No thanks.” His friend didn’t deign to reply but looked at him expectantly and he sighed. “If you really have to know, I’ve been exactly where you said I’ve been; shagging birds and drinking myself senseless every night. I pick up odd jobs, sometimes they last...sometimes I forget to come in and I get fired. The blood was a nasty run-in with my cousin...I don’t think I need to name her. Got on her bad side, called her fat, paid for it.” 

“And your flat?”

Sirius frowned.

“What about it?”

“Lupin says he’s written to you and you never answer his letters. I assumed you weren’t staying there. That’s what I told him, anyhow.” James grimaced at the flush that had appeared on Sirius cheeks. “Bloody hell Sirius” he muttered, standing and crossing to the liquor cabinet again. This time, he came back with Ogden’s and tossed his back before he said anything else. “What’s this about, mate? I know you’re reckless, but you’re not _suicidal_.” 

“So I don’t keep in touch” Sirius snapped. “What of it? Maybe I’m busy, maybe I was _disowned_ and I need a bloody job to keep my flat. I’m not exactly rolling in galleons James! When I finish work I want to go to a pub, get wiped and fuck whatever girl tickles my fancy. I’m not worried about an odd letter from Moony who-by the way- _never_ visits, or the mountains of letters I get from Peter talking about his bored-up-the-arsehole Ministry job, I-”

-He stopped because James was smirking, a tell-tale sign he’d let something slip. 

“So you _know_ your mates are writing you, you even _read_ their letters, but you’re too busy feeling sorry for yourself to think subjectively about it” was the shrewd reply. 

Sirius downed his whiskey too fast, glaring as James idly flicked his wand; clearing his windpipe. 

“Fuck all” he muttered, dropping his head to his hands. “James, I don’t know. I’m fucked up, probably more than you realize, but I’m over it. I’ve got things I have to do and I don’t have a lot of time to do them.”

And that was as close to the truth as he was ever going to get. Sirius bitterly reflected that telling James about his miraculous time-travel could result in timeline changes he wasn’t prepared for and couldn’t rectify. He doubted he’d be given such an opportunity twice, and keeping the sequence of events leading up to that horrible Halloween night was paramount in ensuring it never happened. If he told James it would create a ripple effect that could screw everything up. James and Lily might opt not to have children at all, or they might wait until after the allotted dates in order to avoid lining up with the prophecy. And if that was the case, could the prophecy change? Or would Harry simply never be born at all, leaving the Dark Lord to reign eternal? Neither option was appealing, one because it would place things within a scope of time that Sirius was unfamiliar with, and the other because he didn’t fancy subjecting the world to never-ending terror and enslavement. Also, a world without Harry just seemed stupidly dim.

It was-ultimately-the loneliest task he’d ever been set to. Hopefully he could share it with someone someday, once it was all over....if he didn’t die in the process, but that was a long time away. A soft _‘meow’_ to the right of him drew him out of his thoughts, and he watched with bemusement as a handsome onyx cat hopped onto the couch next to him and studied his visage with giant yellow eyes.

“That’s Sigrid” James commented dryly. “She must like you, she doesn’t normally come out for guests.” 

“I didn’t know you’d got a cat” Sirius muttered, scratching the aforementioned feline behind the ears.

“Yes well, you haven’t been around much, have you?” He sighed when Sirius rolled his eyes. “I know there’s more to the story Pads, but I’ll let you off the hook for now.” 

The mumbled ‘thanks’ the former heir of the Black family offered in return was hoarse and distant. They sat in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes, and Sirius was once again reminded of how far apart they’d grown. After his release from Azkaban, he’d clung desperately to the happy memories he had of his mostly-deceased friends, when in truth those recollections were nothing but that...recollections; and for far longer than he’d been imprisoned. In reality, their quartet had started falling apart sometime during seventh year...and it’d been so painful to watch that Sirius had stubbornly ignored it, yet, at the same time he’d contributed to the rift. A small part of him was desperately angry at Lily for stealing James, and James resented Sirius for resenting him. Lupin had stepped up in a frankly heroic effort to fill his suddenly love-struck best-mate’s shoes; but Sirius had rejected him so fiercely he was shocked he and Remus ever spoke again. Peter was probably the least at fault out of all of them, but Sirius’d taken to taunting him when he had nothing better to do; particularly when he’d managed to sneak a bottle of Firewhiskey into the Tower so he could get shitfaced. 

Sirius stared mulishly at James, who had called Sigrid over to him and was rubbing her belly. He was so _young_ to be settled! It was bizarre to think that at the time of his death, Harry was only a few years younger than his father was now. For years, the two of them had talked about the adventures they’d have when they graduated; motorcycling across the country, bar crawling...eventually becoming Aurors when they’d done their fair share of debauchery. In all fairness, he should have seen it coming. Even when James wasn’t shouting his love for Lily Evans to the Heavens, he was still incessantly pestering her every chance he got. It was _’written in the stars’_ as some Muggle women he’d perhaps spent one night too long with would say. 

“Mate, you’ve got to stop looking at me like I’ve kicked you.”

Sirius blinked. 

“Pardon?”

“You look like you do when you’re Padfoot and I won’t give you any bacon.” James’ expression was sickeningly sympathetic. “I...I’m sorry Sirius.”

Now _that_ he hadn’t been expecting.

“W-what?” 

“I guess we just sort of...fell apart” James muttered, looking away. The tips of his ears were a faint pink, an indication of his friend’s discomfort with what he was forcing himself to say. “And I was so bloody obsessed with ‘proving’ to Lils that I could be responsible and upright...even though she never asked me to. I just-I think-” He huffed exhasperatedly. “-I lost sight of what was important. You lot were always there for me and I just threw you to the side.” 

I wasn’t any better” Sirius muttered. “I was a jealous prick.”

“Yeah, you were” James agreed, grinning. “But that doesn’t excuse it, and it definitely doesn’t excuse that I did the same thing to Remus and Peter.” He shook his head. “In some ways, it was _worse_ for them because they never gave us any trouble about it.” 

“Maybe that’s why Mooney doesn’t visit” Sirius muttered. 

“Could very bloody well be” James replied, and if his voice wavered a little, neither acknowledged it. Another silence descended upon them, but this time it was less uncomfortable. “Should I have Lily make up the guest room for you?” James asked at length. 

Sirius shook his head.

“No. I can’t stay.” He grinned and cocked his head. “Besides, she’ll put Bubotuber pus between the sheets and my manhood would never forgive me.” 

“What manhood?” James retorted, a sort of tentative half-smile forming on his lips. “Where will you go?”

Sirius sighed. 

“I guess I”ll Floo over to the flat” he muttered, standing up and placing his glass on the coffee table in front of him. “Someone’s got to answer all those bloody letters from Peter and I might as well write Mooney as well.” He raised an eyebrow at James’ apprehensive expression. “I’m not disappearing anymore, mate. I wasn’t lying when I said I’ve got a lot to do.” 

His friend nodded, albiet a bit hesitantly. 

“Alright, keep in touch if you can. I...would really like if you were at the wedding, and if I don’t know where you are, I can’t tell you when it is.” 

Sirius ignored the knee-jerk irritation he felt at the mention of his friend’s nuptials. James saw him to the fire, though he still looked uncertain and a little bit miserable. 

“I’ll let you know” he reassured him. 

A promise was a promise, after all.

Still, as Sirius watched James’ face disappear into a blur of bright green flame and considered the possible course of his life over the next few years….

...he wasn’t sure if he could keep one...if any.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** Woah, GIANT space between chapters. I would say I owe an explanation...kind of. Firstly, while I was researching for this fic, I ran across James/Sirius fics. And I read one.   
> **WORST MISTAKE I'VE EVER MADE.**  
>  I now ship both Remus/Sirius and James/Sirus and wow was that an internal conflict because I'd look at 'It Was Only A Kiss!' and think: _'I LOVE Wolfstar'_ and then I'd read 'Once Bitten' and think _'God I LOVE James/Sirius!'_ It was one of those what have I done crises that I think happens to every fanfic writer every once in a while. Needless to say I need to be careful exploring pairings that use similar chars in my fics. I actually thought I could never love a character in a different slash pairing but wow was I WRONG.  
>  Anyway, my life also just got hugely complicated for private reasons but needless to say, writing helps me. It's therapeutic and stopping it was just a bad idea all around.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Letters To A Friend (Who's Never There)

_Padfoot,_

_I finally got your address from Prongs. Hard to believe you’re in Muggle London...how do you even manage it? Dad says it’s not so horrible but I agree with Mom; it’s got to be strange. Speaking of strange, can you believe we’re not coming back to Hogwarts next year? It almost feels...well.. **wrong** to me. You know how rubbish I am at getting used to new things. Mum’s got me set up to work in the DIMC, in the Magical Trading Standards Body. I **told** her I want to be an Auror but she says she won’t have me wasting my time training for something I”ll never qualify for. Bollocks if you ask me...do you think you could owl her and put in a good word for me? I don’t like this business about a Dark Lord I’m reading in the Prophet. Doesn’t sound like the Ministry’s taking it too seriously yet, but Dumbledore’s sent an owl looking for recruits for some Order or other. I didn’t really understand it so I sent an owl off to look for Remus. He might know something. Speaking of Mooney, have you got any idea where he is? I’ve sent two owls so far and they usually come back with a reply, but it takes two weeks or more and here’s never a return address. Anyway, I had a moment but I’ve got to get to the Ministry. I’ve got an interview at two, Mum’ll never forgive me if I’m late. Hope you’re well._

_Wormtail (P.P.)_

 

“‘The stories of the street are mine’, the many voices laugh.”

_Sirius,_

_I don’t have a lot of time right now, but I figured you ought to know I”m perfectly fine. James provided generously for me (as you know) and I find that despite the inconveniences of my position, I am managing quite well. Peter has owled me several times to ask my location and to be honest I don’t stay anywhere long. Adversely, I may be returning soon to hear what Dumbledore has to say about the Order. I hope you’ve given thought to Auror training. You can’t be a vagrant forever you know. James mentioned that you’re saving for a motorbike, I really wish you wouldn’t. There’s no sense in that rubbish...you’ll get yourself killed. Please take care of yourself, I’ve got to run._

_Remus_

”The Cadillacs go creeping now through the night and poison gas.”

_Padfoot,_

_My last letter must have gotten lost. It doesn’t matter, there wasn’t anything important in it. I got that Bloody Ministry job. Mum’s thrilled...I’m bored to death. I never knew there were fifty-two methods for proper trade agreement. Did you know that France doesn’t acknowledge a specific Bulgarian liquor as marketable? There was a huge debate over it in the 1600s. Something about an attractive warlock whose intestines melted through his abdominal wall and onto the living room floor. To be fair, I’m pretty sure that was an assassination attempt and nothing to do with Bulgaria but it’s banned anyway. There’s also a bridge over the Straits or Russia for any sorry sod trying to travel there on a broomstick. My boss is a right clod. He has a twenty-minimum report quota for new trainees and it goes up to fifty once you’re a senior exec. I don’t know how I’m going to survive here, I’m pants at remembering to finish anything. Remus always finished my essays if I couldn’t. Words were never my strong-point, I haven’t heard from James in a long time, have you? I only get letters from Mooney and he’s always in a terrible rush. I wish he’d just let us help him on the Full, it seems like it’s taking a terrible toll on him. I got a letter from him dated the day after a Moon and his writing was all shaky and spidery. I know he doesn’t want our help but it sure seems like he needs it. Anyway, it’s half six and I”ve got to go in half an hour. I hope you’re alright._

_Wormtail (P.P.)_

“And I lean from my window sill in this old hotel I chose.”

_Sirius,_

_I don’t know what the devil you’re playing at but Peter seems fair convinced you’ve offed yourself. He says he’s written to you twice and you’re not answering. I know you two weren’t close but you could at least manage to write a simple hello. I haven’t heard from you either but James insists your fine...though it’s about as hard to get ahold of him as it is you. Look, seventh year….it was bad for us...but we’re still friends. You know that if something’s bothering you you can talk to any of us, right? I’ll be back in town for the engagement party. Hopefully you’ll be there._

_Remus_

“Yes one hand on my suicide, one hand on the rose.”

_Sirius,_

_I was sorry not to see you at the engagement party. James wouldn’t tell us why you weren’t there and every time we brought it up to Lily she went red in the face. I wish you’d been there, I’d have liked for you to meet Emma. She’s a good girl, though a bit older than me, I’ll admit. It wouldn’t be so hard for us to go on a date if she wasn’t my boss’s receptionist. Workplace rules and all that rubbish. It sounds like you’ve really been living on the edge...I hope you’re not falling off the edge, like Remus seems to think you are. Mum’s not doing so well. Dad says it’ll pass but he’s worried this time...it’s not like the other times. We’re throwing a little party for her this upcoming Saturday, nothing big, just something to cheer her up. I would really like it if you were to come. Remus said he would but I”m not sure about James. You know how James gets around sick people who aren’t going to get better. Hope this finds you in good health._

_Peter_

“I know you've heard it's over now and war must surely come.”

_You’re a right **fucking** sod._

_-R_

“The cities they are broke in half and the middle men are gone.”

_To: Sirius Arcturus Black_   
_1678 Hemmington Way,_   
_New Westminster_   
_London, U.K._

_This letter is a notice of the death of Edith Velma Pettigrew, who passed on June 30th, 1978 at 10:45 P.M. You are formally invited to the memorial service, which will be held on Hogwarts grounds on July 3rd at 1pm. You are permitted to bring 1 guest and it is encouraged that attendees bring a covered dish._

_Sincerely,_

_Alain Pettigrew and Peter Pettigrew_

“But let me ask you one more time, O children of the dusk.”

_Sirius,_

_I wish I’d seen you at the funeral. Remus came, but I didn’t even get to talk to him...it was like he only showed up so he could say he was there. Dumbledore was there too, and he asked after you and James. I didn’t really know what to say. James RSVP’ed with some half-assed excuse...I wasn’t really surprised to not hear from you...not at this point. I..I hope you know Mum was really fond of you. Sometimes I think she liked you better than me...just because you’re so bloody good-looking. She left you her stupid silver cigarette case, Dad joked that no one else’d be able to pry that thing from her cold, dead fingers. I’d really like to hear from you just once, I could use a friend. Emma’s sweet and all, but she’s no Maurader. Sometimes I wish we could’ve stayed at school forever._

_P.P._

“All these hunters who are shrieking now oh do they speak for us?”

_Sirius,_   
_I can’t make this long. Don’t come back to the house. Ever. It’s not the same. It’s...worse. Mum wants you dead and I don’t think Dad’ll try and talk her out of it this time. So just...stay wherever you are and don’t draw attention to yourself. I made a mistake. You were right. But it’s too late now._

_R._

“And where do all these highways go, now that we are free?”

_Sirius,_

_I...I’m moving out of the country for a while. Emma wants to travel, and there’s nothing left for me here, really. I don’t mean to sound selfish when I say that, it’s just I feel like I’m waiting around for something that’ll never happen. When we were in school, we always had our quartet to turn to for help. Now...I feel like I”m waiting for the Mauraders to remember who they are...I spend my nights looking out the windows as if expecting to see one of you shoot over the rooftops on a broomstick. It’s...it’s pathetic really. We’ve graduated...and it seems like you’ve all moved on and I”m just stuck here wishing for something that’s been dead for months. Emma says it’ll be good for me to get out and see what’s out there. I”m starting to think she’s right. Dad seems disappointed I’ve dropped my job so soon, but he also seems to understand. I know you’ll probably never read this, but, if you could check up on my old man every once in a while, that would mean a lot. He pretends to do all right, but I know he misses Mum. If you ever want to meet up, or just send a letter really, you know to owl me._

_Peter_

“Why are the armies marching still that were coming home to me?”

There was a muted, somewhat pungent explosion as the magical gramophone next to him exploded. Peter’s letter floated to the ground amidst a rain of ash as Sirius covered his face with his hands and exhaled shakily. For a moment, the grief and guilt threatened to overwhelm him as the reality of his existence came crashing down around his ears. There were more letters, of course. Piles and piles of them at his letterbox and down the chimney. Most of them were from Peter….but it looked like the one he’d just read was the last one he’d sent. Sirius knew for a fact that Mr. Pettigrew would die approximately five months from now. Some whispered that it was dragonpox, but he knew it was grief. Mr. Lupin had died very similarly following the passing of Mrs. Lupin. After that, Peter had never been the same...though Sirius suspected the change in him had started long before his father’s demise. The proof of the Maurauder’s abandonment of their weakest, smallest member was here, in this house; under piles and piles of parchment that grew more pleading and unhappy each time Sirius tore open another envelope.

It made him want to burn the whole place to the ground.

Standing on unsteady legs, Sirius shuffled over to the ancient secretary Mrs. Potter had given to him the day he moved in. Yanking open the center drawer, he swept burnt candle stubs and cigarette butts to the side; not stopping until he’d procured an inkwell, quill, and parchment. He searched in vain for a stamp and wax but gave it up for a lost cause. There was a rustle of feathers and he startled, watching with mild surprise as his owl Themis blinked at him with large yellow eyes.

“Still here, are you?” he muttered, smirking as a disgruntled hoot was the only answer he was dignified. Still scribbling with one hand, he fished around in another drawer for some very stale owl treats. Themis considered his offering briefly before coming to a decision and hopping down so Sirius could tie the letter to his leg. “Take this to Peter Pettigrew” he instructed. “I dunno where he is but you probably do. When you come back I’ll have one for you to send to Remus.”

His vision was obscured by black feathers as he leaned over to throw open a grimy window, watching as the owl soared towards the midnight moon before banking a sharp left. When there was no sign of Themis anywhere, Sirius shut the window with a sigh and stood so he could flop back down on the couch. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be too late to right the wrongs he’d done...but only time would tell. A flick of the wrist incinerated the mountain of letters cluttering the flat...no use living in guilt if you were going to try and make things better. The gramophone shuddered back to life as his eyes drooped, the only sign he’d heard it a slight twitch of the brow as a shadow passed over the moon.

_“We are so small between the stars, so large against the sky,  
And lost among the subway crowds I try to catch your eye.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poem: Stories of the Street, Leonard Cohen. I actually don't like his music ( sinful! I know), but I love his lyrics without his singing or the instrumental so I suppose you could say I'm a fan of the poet but not the musician. Honestly, I think this is the only time I am going to use lyrics from a song in a fanfic chapter and if I ever do it again I encourage you to remind me. I'd have liked to use one of my poems but this one was kind of drilling into my head along with heart with no companion (I honestly think the lyrics to that song might be some of the most beautiful poetry in existence). 
> 
> **A/N:** This is a shorter chapter but I did want to grasp the letter sequence before moving on into situations with other Marauders or characters within the story. I spent several days agonizing over how the hell I was going to formulate this and I'm not 100% satisfied with it yet but if I do anything else I'm going to go insane.

**Author's Note:**

>  **A/N:** Right. This is the first fic I've ever written for the HP fandom, so bear with me. The continuation of this fic greatly depends on how well its received, as I am in entirely unfamiliar territory. I am familiar with both the books and the movies, but it's been some time since I thoroughly scoured both. 
> 
> This is mostly going to focus on the twilight years of the Maurauders, between the time when they graduated and the time when Voldemort rose back into power. I'm not generally a time-traveling fic-writer, but I think there's a first time for everything :) Primarily, I intend to focus on seeing what Sirius can do for Harry's parents; this includes finding out more about Voldemort, and his relationship with Lupin. I'm also leaning towards giving Peter a chance to rethink things...because I do believe there was some good in him, even at the end. This was originally going to span five years at Hogwarts and then I realized that I would probably explode if I tried to do that. 
> 
> Please, feel free to tell me what you think/point out discrepancies. I love feedback, and I do my best to update once a week.  
> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
>  
> 
> **R &R**


End file.
